I Dreamed a Dream || BTS

~ 1 ~

"You cannot lie to me."

"Hanjae..."

"You cannot!" His eyes were wide and frantic, fixated on the man who kneeled before him, but the submissive position was contrasted by the cold, condescending gaze that he bore. "Do not dare lie, Chul-soo. I have the power to make the mountains quake, the seas part, the earth's creatures tremble." Hanjae's hand clasped the hilt of his sword, but he did not draw it. Yet. He reveled in the sudden concern on Chul-soo's face. "It would be foolish to assume that I cannot make you too bend to my will."

A gust of wind tore through the gardens. It rippled the brook, fluttered the leaves, and ripped Namjoon's gat from his head. With a huff of frustration, he abandoned his book and chased the abominable object. Once he finally retrieved it, set it firmly atop his head, and returned to his shaded spot beneath the lone willow tree, the anticipation for Chul-soo's response was long gone. He had already predicted that the man was responsible for the murder of Hanjae's younger brother, and a single sentence – "I will accept responsibility for my crimes." – was all the confirmation that Namjoon needed. He lazily thumbed through the book's pages while gazing up at the clouded sky.

The gat's obstinance was partially his fault. He was asking for trouble when he ventured to the gardens beneath a sky that threatened bad weather. Still, he found it intriguing that the heavens had not recovered from the previous evening's downpour. Namjoon had hardly been able to sleep a wink, kept awake by the horrible crackling of thunder and lightning. Indeed, he hated storms. The only reason he dared go outside today was the sudden, overjoying news that had arrived in the dead of the night.

The king was dead.

In a sudden and brutal attack from Japanese invaders, Gyeongbok Palace was burnt to the ground. It was unclear whether the fire had killed the king or other opposing forces, but Namjoon did not care about the lack of information. He found it rather poetic that the king was killed by his very identity.

Namjoon heard raindrops pattering against the tree's leaves. Rain... Namjoon could handle rain. But then, he heard the distant boom of thunder, and cold fear cascaded upon him like an avalanche. He grasped his book against his chest with trembling fingers and ran from the willow tree. Rain trickled off the brim of his gat, and he bent his head to protect the vulnerable pages of his book – indeed, although the gat had ruined the anticipation, there were still many unanswered questions in the story. Finally, he ducked under the shelter of his front porch, but he did not truly relax until he was inside the house with the door slammed shut behind him.

He was preparing to exhale deeply when an angered voice demanded, "Namjoon? Where on earth have you been?"

The mere sight of his father's reddened face, his haphazard garb, and the ring of chaos surrounding him – books, papers, and the remains of a shattered vase strewn across the floor – put Namjoon on the verge of passing out. "I-I-I..."

"Is it so difficult?" the man snarled. "My afternoon has been thrown into disarray, all because I could not find my son who should wait on me hand and foot."

"Many apologies, Father. I was in the gardens, reading." He dropped to his knees and bent his head, bracing himself for a blow. "I was not aware you were searching for me."

"Well, why would I not search for you? The whole kingdom has been thrown into a frenzy." He growled and snatched up another vase, hurling it against the wall. The piercing shriek of its shatter, notably similar to lightning, made Namjoon's hands tremble violently. "The courts may have already decided upon a suitor, and you were frolicking in the gardens!"

"Suitor, Father?"

"Yes, suitor." He tossed a scroll of parchment to the floor, and Namjoon flinched when it hit his knee. "I trust you can read it yourself, what with the whole library you consume in a day."